


silent, grave, and indifferent

by hl (hele)



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Interstitial, One Shot, Regency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-03
Updated: 2009-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hele/pseuds/hl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short exploration of a favourite scene from Darcy's pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	silent, grave, and indifferent

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Elizabeth for writing awesome fiction, and because she asked me to write it.
> 
> Much much thanks to tree for betaing. All errors remaining are mine.

> [When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at Longbourn in a few days time.](http://www.pemberley.com/janeinfo/ppv3n54.html#D9v22v2)

Even with the prospect of seeing her mother and the whole of her friends and neighbours, Darcy could not help being impatient for Tuesday's arrival and Elizabeth's presence. It was vexing that it should be so--he had said to himself that he had come to Hertfordshire only for Bingley, that a change in her would be as unexpected as it would be welcome--but that first interview, and her silence, her downcast mien, had proven terrible for his spirits.

He did not dare hope, but nonetheless, the perverseness of feelings that refused to be quenched made him attend to every look, every gesture of hers. He had looked for a change in her attitude towards him, wanting to see some of that easiness which, once she had overcome her embarrassment at Pemberley, had dominated their interactions, and found nothing but confusion, and an uncharacteristic introspection.

It was fortunate that Bingley was involved in waiting to attend to Miss Bennet's beauty to so great a degree that he could not see his friend's impatience; Darcy had only to acquiesce when the other proposed they refresh themselves after hunting, a good hour before preparations would be strictly necessary; he was safe: he had not raised any curiosity towards himself.

It is perhaps not surprising that they arrived at Longbourn in good time. The customary salutations told Darcy nothing but the fact that Elizabeth would scarcely look at him, still, and they were almost immediately guided to the dining room. It could not have been a more uncomfortable situation for him if it had been planned so; if Mrs. Bennet had been acute enough to understand him, he would have thought the lady had done it with that in mind. It was a large party, and he was seated by the mistress of the house, a whole table filled with inconsequential people away from Elizabeth. He endured it with as much grace as he could muster and, though he tried to conceal his true feelings, his only comfort was that none of the people surrounding him were likely to perceive them even if he was not perfectly successful at it.

During dinner he decided to approach Elizabeth at the first opportunity and, though he wavered in that resolution during the separation of the sexes, his first action when he entered the drawing room was to look for her. She stood by the table with the coffee; he looked at her for a moment and caught her gaze for the first time that evening; he was about mid-journey to her when the ladies closed around her, leaving no place to stand, much less sit next to her. Seeing it was not to be, he got his coffee and redirected his steps towards the other side of the room.

It was perhaps due to his inattention--his only goal had been to move away from the throng of people seeking hot beverages--but when he came face to face with Mr. Bennet, there was no time to do anything but bow and smile.

'Oh--eminently reasonable--you decided to avoid the Bacchae1,' said the gentleman, with a sardonic smile.

Darcy had to suppress a smile in response. It was an incongruous comparison but, even so, a curiously fitting one.

He looked around--the party was large and noisy; there were Lucases everywhere; Meryton folk everywhere--and decided to stay by Mr. Bennet's side. Having thus secured intelligent and entertaining company--if not an entirely proper one--he tried to think something appropriate to say in response.

Mr. Bennet spoke before he could. 'I see you prefer to be silent. Very well, Mr. Darcy--I am not as easily offended as my daughters.' At Darcy's continued silence--he was wondering which of Mr. Bennet's daughters, and how he could answer, in any case--Mr. Bennet added, 'Though I know, that before I can assert this as the truth, I should hear with equanimity you professing me not tolerable enough to speak to.' He seemed vastly amused with his own speech.

Darcy was momentarily disconcerted; it was clear the other man was referencing something in particular, but what, Darcy could not imagine. Then, he happened to look at Elizabeth--who was listening to a young lady at her side but looking at _him_\--and he remembered. He was all confusion; the moment would have been erased from his memory had not his own observations belied his words so soon after. In such a circumstance, what could he say?

He was saved--he could not believe his own relief at it--by Sir William. He approached them with amicability, at once making an observation on the quality of the coffee and the ladies serving it. It was as good excuse as any to drink up and nod; Darcy even made himself smile a little. He _was_ grateful, after all, even if he began to regret the intrusion almost immediately afterwards. The fellow droned on and on, one inconsequential remark after another; Darcy could barely keep up. He nodded and smiled briefly--at times, he even spoke. Yes, he did think the meal had been good. Yes, Mrs. Bennet kept a very good table.

'And what charming party!' said Sir William, his good humoured observations never ending. 'But so many young people, and no dancing! I think we feel the lack of your youngest in this regard, Mr. Bennet. Mrs. Wickham was always so enthusiastic for dancing.'

'She _was_ remarkably silly,' agreed the father, his humour showing no disturbance.

Darcy felt himself tensing, and tried to hide it, but he could not stay there with them--it proved too violent a strain on his equanimity. He looked down and lifted his cup in explanation. 'If you will excuse me.' He almost did not wait until the two men nodded, still complacent, and fled to Elizabeth.

The crush had subsided; he could now stand by her while he got his cup refilled.

She spoke first, but did not actually look at him while doing so. 'Is your sister at Pemberley still?'

'Yes, she will remain there till Christmas.'

'And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?'

'Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough, these three weeks.' It was only after he answered that he regretted he did not say more; it was out of his power to think now of something else.

Elizabeth looked at him as if she thought the same, and he felt like a fool.

Then, the same young lady--the same blasted young thing that had interrupted them before--leaned close to her, and, giggling, whispered something he could not hear. He told himself he did not mind, and walked away. Could he have done anything else?

This time, he took care to locate Bingley immediately, and directed his steps accordingly. Bingley did not pay him much mind--he was much too involved with Miss Bennet--except to look at him every now and then, with something that could have been apology, or laughter, or both. With Bingley, it was difficult to tell. No matter, there he could spare himself the pretence of caring about the conversation; neither Bingley nor Miss Bennet appeared to mind. It proved, however, to be a dreadful place to be standing once cards were proposed.

Mrs. Bennet must have thought herself very clever as she manoeuvred Bingley and Miss Bennet to the same table. 'Lady Lucas, here, can play against you,' she said, a speculative gleam in her eyes. Then her gaze landed on Darcy, and she added, 'With Mr. Darcy, perhaps, if we can bother him? Or perhaps he does not like cards, _either_.' Her tone said that she was sure of it, and Darcy felt an irrational urge to prove her wrong.

'Not at all. I enjoy a great many social diversions,' he said, condemning himself to play.

The rest of the night was nigh on insupportable. He was sure his companion was as uninspiring at cards as she was in conversation, but he could not in all honesty assure it--he was much too distracted by Elizabeth, playing at another table. She did not laugh, and she barely smiled. Her eyes often turned in his direction, and he could not but wonder at her expression: why her change in disposition since Pemberley?

He thought and looked, but could find no satisfactory answer, nothing to keep him in the county; he was decided: he would depart the next day.

* * *

1 - Bacchae or maenads. Followers of Dionysus. Exclusively female. They lost self control during rituals. See more at the [wiki page](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bacchae).


End file.
